


Animae dimidium meae

by Captain_Redbeard



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Eve of battle, F/M, Melancholy, Two Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-24 04:43:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18564148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Redbeard/pseuds/Captain_Redbeard
Summary: Just another Jonrya fic.





	1. Chapter 1

It was the eve of battle. Arya stood inside the great hall of Winterfell surrounded by countless others. 

Brienne stood next to the Kingslayer who had ridden to Winterfell just that morning. Tyrion was sat with Podrick and Tormund, all three were drinking quietly. Lord Davos stood a little further from her staring out at the darkness through the window. 

The fire from the hearth cast a warm glow on all their faces, and yet the cold seemed to seep into her very bones.

Patience had never been one of her great virtues. Though waiting for an imminent battle with the dead made it difficult to be calm, even for her.

A deathly silence permeated the very air. Arya could feel her heart beating strong within her chest, the sound of her heartbeats echoing in her ears.

'Anymore of this silence and I'll be ready to scream', she thought to herself. Only one person's presence would have calmed her frayed nerves at that moment but he was strangely absent from the scene. 

Before she could ponder upon his absence, Lord Tyrion got up from his seat almost toppling the chair in his haste.

The sound of wood made against stone almost startled all the occupants in the room.

Finding himself the subject of intense inspection, Tyrion cleared his throat.

'Tell me I am not the only one who can not stand this stillness any longer', he said finally, looking part miserable and part drunk.

Arya smiled as did many of the others.

Podrick responded to his question 'You are not the only one my lord. Perhaps we could exchange battle stories.'

'Battle stories on the eve of battle? Surely not, man. We need something to liven up the moment, not dull it down further', Tyrion replied.

'A song then. A ballad of some sort', was Lord Davos's suggestion.

'Excellent suggestion Sir Davos!', the imp stated rubbing his hands together. He then proceeded to look around the room as if to find a suitable candidate.

'Lady Brienne would you perhaps grace us with your lovely voice this fine evening?', he asked.

Arya could feel Brienne bristling from halfway across the room, Tyrion could too apparently because his next words were 'Perhaps Not. Any other takers?'

'I can sing', the words had left Arya's mouth before she could reign them in.

Tyrion's head snapped to look at her in wonder. 'Lady Stark...you would sing for us?' he asked amazed.

'Why not? Just because I like archery and swordplay doesn't mean I can't appreciate a good song', Arya replied brazenly.

'Of course...that is, I only meant that it would be an honour to hear you sing'

'Perhaps you would prefer to hold on to your opinion until after I've serenaded you, my lord.' 

Tyrion smiled mischievously and said only, 'As my lady commands'.

Arya narrowed her eyes at him as she moved to sit amongst them.

'Well? Is there any song, in particular, my lord would like to hear?', she asked after seating herself next to Tormund.

Before Tyrion could reply, she heard Podrick say shyly, 'Jenny of Oldstones, my lady'

Arya smiled at him and said 'Very well Podrick. Jenny of Oldstones it is'.

She thought back to her time in Braavos, and how the Black Pearl had tired over her lack of singing ability. 

_'Well, we're all likely to die on the morrow. Even if I embarrass myself, I won't have to bear the shame for too long'_

 

_High in the halls of the kings who are gone_

_Jenny would dance with her ghosts_

_The ones she had lost and the ones she had found_

_And the ones who had loved her the most_

As she sang her eyes drifted closed and images rushed through her head. She remembered her Lord Father, her mother and all the people she'd lost over the years.

 

_The ones who'd been gone for so very long_

_She couldn't remember their names_

_They spun her around on the damp old stone_

_Spun away all her sorrow and pain  
_

She thought of Lommy and Weasel and the Ghost of High Heart.

 

_And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

She recalled her time spent on the Titan's Daughter and how her heart broke sailing away from all that was familiar.

 

_They danced through the day_

_And into the night through the snow that swept through the hall_

_From winter to summer and winter again_

_'Til the walls did crumble and fall_

She remembered stumbling blindly through the House of Black and White. There were days when she lost all sense of time and only her dreams of Nymeria kept her sane.

 

_And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

_Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave_

She thought of Jon's arms and how they closed around her upon her return to Winterfell. She remembered kissing him in front of the Heart tree as snow fell around them.

 

_High in the halls of the kings who are gone_

_Jenny would dance with her ghosts_

_The ones she had lost and the ones she had found_

_And the ones who had loved her the most_

 

Arya opened her eyes as she sang the last line and the first thing she saw was Jon standing near the entrance looking captivated. He looked how she felt. Like he wanted to run away with her. Away from pain and loss...away from certain death. Arya smiled at him sadly knowing full well that neither of them would ever abandon the North. The Starks belonged at Winterfell.

Continued silence from the other members of the room forced her to look at them. What she saw surprised her.

Brienne was wiping away the tears on her face while Podrick smiled at her with his heart in his eyes. Jaime Lannister looked at her as if seeing a ghost. Tormund was too busy looking at Brienne. Lord Davos looked at her like Ned Stark would sometimes when she gave him mangled flowers. 

Arya saw Tyrion approach her slowly. He stopped in front of her, picked up her hand and proceeded to kiss it.

'As I said earlier Lady Stark...it was a pleasure to hear you sing. I shall cherish this memory for as long as I might live', he said.

 

* * *

 

 

Later that night Arya stood staring at the heart tree with Jon's arms wrapped around her.

Her heart felt curiously lighter although nothing had changed.

She felt Jon's lips caress her hair and then her neck.

'Were you Jenny then, love?', he asked. 

'More like the ghost', she replied softly.

Jon turned her in his arms and kissed her. 

'Not as long as I draw breath', he said and kissed her again.

 


	2. Chapter 2

She stood in the midst of a massacre. The Others were a plague, she thought to herself. A plague sent to destroy the world of the living.

 

Winterfell and its surrounding plains were painted red and still the battle waged. She had seen many friends fall on the battlefield and knew that before the fighting was done she would be among them. She had long evaded death but, now it seemed, the god of death had come to collect.

 

Though darkness stalked her, her concern was focused on the rider flying high above them. Jon was riding Rhaegal and fighting the dead with dragon fire while Daenerys aided him, atop Drogon. Yet no matter how many wights he burned, more still appeared. Arya knew Jon had hoped that having dragons on their side would better their chances of victory. As she looked around the field with despair, she knew that their hope had been foolish.

 

She felt Nymeria nudge her to draw her attention back to her surroundings. Arya clutched her fur and climber onto her direwolf with much difficulty. She did a quick count of her injuries mentally. Her right arm had suffered a deep cut, as had her left leg. She was bleeding, but the cold helped stem the flow of blood. Her fighting arm was tired from gripping her blade.

 

Disorientedly she wondered what Syrio would have said about the way she had clutched her sword with all her might. Then she remembered, brave as he was, the First Sword of Braavos had never faced an army of the dead. For a moment she felt herself cursing her old dancing master. He had taught her 'true seeing' and now she saw all too clearly. This fight was beyond them all.

 

Her breathing slowed even as the frigid wind numbed her senses. She lay her head on Nymeria’s back, needing to rest. Such was her exhaustion that she could not lift her head again, even when she felt Nymeria move.  She was tired of fighting she thought as she felt herself drift. She’d been fighting one way or another since her father died. Death could sometimes be mercy and after all the time she had spent with her ghosts, death no longer alarmed her.

 

* * *

 

 

Arya woke to sound of Nymeria’s howls. Twilight surrounded her. She struggled to get to her feet in vain.  She managed to get upright and snow-covered trees met her eyes whichever way she looked. The only sound she heard was her own breathing. As her power of thought returned panic gripped her insides.

 

Where was Jon? How far had she strayed from the battle? As Nymeria approached her she clutched her fur to stand, but the movement made her head spin.

 

‘Take me to Jon, girl. Take me to him now!’, she said to Nymeria.

 

The gravity in her voice caused Nymeria to move with more speed than usual, while Arya tried to stay on her back with all her might.

 

When Nymeria finally slowed, Arya surveyed the scene before her in horror. Winterfell stood grim and quiet in the distance, but the plains before its walls resembled carnage.

As Nymeria slowly moved forward, Arya saw only destruction. There were no bodies...only charred heaps of ash. The ground had turned the colour of tar, despite the snowfall. Arya had thought the hardest part of war was its aftermath...counting the dead. She knew now that worse than seeing the remains of your loved ones was seeing no remains at all. It was as if civilisation itself had ceased to exist. So hard was the impact of the scene all around her that she had not realised that Nymeria had stilled.

 

Directly ahead of her lay the scorched carcass of what had once been a dragon. Arya felt her breath leave her body. Soundlessly, she umounted and approached the body. Dread filled her veins as she recognised the green-bronze tinge where some skin still remained.

 

She fell to her knees. Jon...he’d been riding Rhaegal. If his dragon had fallen...then he too had been…

 

She could not bring herself to complete her thought even as her tears overflowed.

 

_'Were you Jenny then, love?', he asked._

_'More like the ghost', she replied softly._

_Jon turned her in his arms and kissed her._

_'Not as long as I draw breath', he said and kissed her again._

 

Not as long as I draw breath he’d said. How dare he die while she lingered this world a ghost. He’d promised her he would find her again when the battle was over.

 

_‘He promised’_ , she whispered in anguish.

 

How long she sat on the cold, hard ground she didn’t know.

 

They were all truly gone now. All her loved ones, all her friends. While she remained. She thought they were her ghosts, but she’d been wrong. She was the ghost, doomed to drift in a world that had nothing to offer her. Her fists clutched the snow, feeling its bite. Winter had arrived in all its fury as her father had always warned, but once again her pack was gone. She was the lone wolf. She breathed deep and swayed to her feet as black dots danced before her eyes.

She had found her pack once before...she would do so again. If death was the only thing that separated her from her family...then she would follow it to the ends of the world.

 

_The god of death had taken everything from her...he could bloody well take her too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens. Also known as a two-shot becomes a three-shot.
> 
> I'm trying to resolve the ending, but Arya doesn't want to cooperate :D  
> Hopefully, the third and final (fingers crossed) instalment will be the end of this tale.
> 
> Yes. This chapter was a downer but I'm convinced it was necessary for whats to follow.  
> Please excuse any grammar and spelling errors...and most importantly, enjoy.

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so this started out as a one-shot.  
> The song just got stuck in my noggin and refused to budge.
> 
> I know I haven't updated my other story in a while. Let's just say I've hit a writer's block the size of Africa. So if you have any suggestions of where Plenilunium should head to next please feel free to share them here.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.  
> As always please excuse any grammar and spelling errors.


End file.
